


A Lifetime of Laughter

by MiladyDeWinter (Techno_Queen)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: (likely) inaccurate portrayals of dancing, (likely) inaccurate portrayals of romance, Ballroom Dancing, Constructive Criticism Welcome, M/M, Romantic Fluff, they're basically the most adorable saps ever, this ship is too beautiful for words, which I am not qualified to write in the slightest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Techno_Queen/pseuds/MiladyDeWinter
Summary: "It’s only when his cheeks start hurting that he realizes he’s grinning stupidly at Aramis. But Aramis is grinning as well, brown eyes warm with love and adoration, and d’Artagnan can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed."(Or: D'Artagnan and Aramis dance, like the adorable saps they are)





	A Lifetime of Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> “ _The death of a bachelor_  
>  _Letting the water fall_  
>  _The death of a bachelor_  
>  _Seems so fitting for_  
>  _Happily ever after_  
>  _How could I ask for more?_  
>  _ **A lifetime of laughter**_  
>  _At the expense of the death of a bachelor”_ \--”Death of a Bachelor” by Panic! At The Disco

“I trust that you know how to dance?”

Aramis says this with laughter dancing in his voice as he furtively tugs d’Artagnan into a small empty side room, shutting the door firmly behind them. They’re at the palace, having served guard duty during one of the King’s balls, and the two of them have just finished their shift, two other musketeers having replaced them several minutes ago. 

D’Artagnan can still hear the music, leaking through the closed door, and he already has his suspicions as to Aramis’ intentions. “My mother always insisted that a proper gentleman should know how to dance.”

“Excellent.” Aramis has that familiar aura of pure excitement that he usually gets when he’s cooked up some insane scheme. “Then I’m sure that you would not be averse to sharing a dance with me?”

D’Artagnan hesitates, already having learned the hard way that sometimes it was good to question Aramis’ decisions, instead of always going along with them. “What if someone walks in on us?”

“Everyone is down in the ballroom, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” And there’s that smile that d’Artagnan always finds incredibly difficult to resist, no matter the situation. “Besides, what’s life without a little adventure?”

“Lunatic,” d’Artagnan snarks, but it contains more fondness than true anger. Aramis merely smirks in response, and d’Artagnan resists the urge to smile. Oh, how he loves this man, even if he _is_ nuttier than an oak tree in September.

“Very well,” he acquiesces, finally giving in to the grin that spreads on his face. It’s an attractive idea, to be certain, even if he is somewhat nervous. “Let’s dance.”

He knows he’s made the right decision when Aramis laughs and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him into the center of the room. Here, the music is fainter, but still audible, and d’Artagnan is already mentally counting the beats, the rhythm. 

“Who leads?” he asks, as they face each other.

“We can take turns,” Aramis responds easily, as if he anticipated this question and prepared a response for it in advance. “Do you wish to be first to lead?”

He bites his lip. “No, you can. It’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

“Very well.”

They settle into their respective positions, d’Artagnan’s left hand on Aramis’ upper arm, Aramis’ right hand on his shoulder blade, their free hands joined. They take a moment to listen to the rhythm of the music, and then they begin.

It’s a little awkward at first. Aramis moves smoothly, like he’s been dancing all his life. By contrast, d’Artagnan is more uncoordinated—he’s out of practice, it having been years since he last danced, and in addition he’s following instead of leading like he was taught. He’s fairly sure that he trips over Aramis’ feet a couple of times in the beginning, although Aramis, tactful as he is, never mentions it.

But after a couple rounds around the room, d’Artagnan familiarizes himself with the movements, old muscle memory coming into play for the first time in years. He gradually relaxes, allowing Aramis to guide him through each progression of the dance, and little by little the awkwardness melts into something more fun and light-hearted.

It’s only when his cheeks start hurting that he realizes he’s grinning stupidly at Aramis. But Aramis is grinning as well, brown eyes warm with love and adoration, and d’Artagnan can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed. 

And when the song ends, the last of the notes fading into oblivion within the small, empty room, Aramis pulls him close, eyes sparkling. And when he leans forward, d’Artagnan simply closes his eyes, and allows himself to drown in the kiss that follows.

 _Yes,_ he thinks, as his heart soars with love. _This was definitely one of Aramis’ better ideas._

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: whenever I write something romantic with these two dorks I end up grinning like a loon at my computer screen because of how gosh-darn adorable they are
> 
> Note: I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if Aramis and d'Art could have gotten away with randomly dancing in a corner of the palace. I also don't know anything about partner dancing except what I picked up from several black-and-white movies, and two internet forums. I also don't know how to write romantic fluff. I am the least qualified person to write this mess, and I am fully aware that there are likely lots of errors that I don't know how to fix. If y'all have any advice to give, I'd be grateful to hear it :)


End file.
